The Dove and the Dreamer
by Lovedaia
Summary: Darkness isn't the only thing lurking in the sleepy town of Riverdale. Mystical abilities are rare, and those that wield them move in secret. Betty and Jughead delve within their own powerful gifts while unraveling gruesome secrets, suspicious deaths, and black magic. Bughead. Magic AU. Enjoy!


**Author's Notes: **Hello! This is my first fan fiction ever, so I welcome any advice or constructive criticism that comes my way. It's been a long time since I've stretched my writing wings, so bare with me while I find my voice once again.  
This story vaguely follows Season 1, at least at first, while I decide which direction to take, but I do have plans for later plot lines. I also have plans to write through Season 2 if it's well received. Bughead abound, I swear.

I wasn't planning to start with a prologue, but I thought it would be a nice introduction into the magic and how it reacts in this world.

I implore you all to share your thoughts. I genuinely want to hear from everyone, and I can't wait to take this journey with you!

*This work is also available on ao3 under the same title*

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale or anything related to Riverdale. I'm just writing for the fun of it.  
**

Betty Cooper has always been a little magical. On spring days, flowers bloom in her path. In the summertime the water she wades through gleams clear as diamonds. Autumn leaves paint her in warmth despite looming chill. Biting winter gloom lifts into mystic crystal glow in her wake. She always seemed to be in the right place at the right time, and felt that she might be creating these enigmatic events around her. But it wasn't until her thirteenth birthday that she found the power to control her magic.

Her unnaturally good luck became tangible, and all the coincidences finally explainable. Something slumbering deep within awakened. She began to truly see the world. Faces of the trees, the shimmer on the winds, the life lines that connected the world. Betty reveled in nature and all its wonder. She opened herself to the curiosities around her, and was greatly rewarded.

Though Betty cherished her mystical abilities, she knew she had to be careful. This wasn't typical, she wasn't normal. She wasn't worried about her childhood friend, Archie Andrews. He had been with her through so much, and her for him. They were almost inseparable, and her faith in him was unwavering. No, Betty worried about her family's reaction. Her sister, Polly, was everything to Betty. They knew each other, inside and out; no secret untold. Betty felt guilty for hiding such a big part of herself, but how would Polly see her if she knew? Would Polly still love her? Would she accept Betty and her magic?

But what Betty feared most was her mother, Alice Cooper.

In her rigidity and fierceness, Alice made sure her daughters had, and were, the best. Mrs. Cooper could not–would not–understand. An abnormality within one of her perfect children would be unacceptable. Betty dreaded what her mother might do to snuff it out.

So, Betty played and practiced on her own. She explored the woods, rolling hills, and hidden meadows throughout her beloved hometown of Riverdale. With the flowing weave of life revealing itself to her, Betty's magical capabilities grew as she learned how to embrace it. She could redirect the winds. She spoke with trees and flowers. The rain bent to her will. She was a force of nature.

Yet, despite her diligence, her powers sometimes had a mind of their own...

The summer Betty turned fourteen, The Cooper's spent a beautiful day on Sweetwater River. They splashed and sunbathed and lazed the day away as glittering waters and soft sunlight painted the family's glowing faces. Their twinkling laughter filled the air, mixing with the melodic sounds of the lush forest. Betty sat along the bank and played with the current of the river, careful to be sure no one was watching. She created small riptides that danced along the sand and broken shells. Miniature whirlpools of algae and pebbles sloshed in her control. When the winds ripped through the trees, threatening to blow their blankets away, she calmed them with confidence. She even managed to coax a low hanging branch to move a few inches to the left for the perfect amount of shade. Though the word left a sour taste in her mouth, Betty couldn't deny it: this day was perfect.

Once the family decided to call it a day, Alice and Hal packed their things and sent the girls ahead. Polly and Betty walked to the car, careful to follow the path back to the main road. In the midst of the sisters chatter and laughter, reliving some of the days events and giggling over rumors wafting in the town, Betty fell silent. She felt a ripple in the life line running through the forest; a cry for help from outside the edge of the path they walked. She turned and cocked her head towards the silent cry. The plea tugged at her heart and her soul, forcing her body towards it unconsciously.

"What's up, Betty? Did you see something?" Polly questioned. Her eyebrows threaded together in confusion, but Polly trailed behind her sister in spite of her caution.

"Something's hurt and scared. I think it needs help." Betty focused on finding the source of this pull, lulled into a gentle trance.

Polly grimaced and slowed her pace. "It?"

"Hush, Polly, we're close." Soon after Betty's rebuke the girls approached a large, old, oak tree. Its massive branches spanned across the treetops, tall and strong. She felt the tug of a life, weak but fighting, laying in the roots of the mighty tree. Hesitant, Betty brought herself to the roots sprawling through the earth and gingerly touched them. She stroked it tenderly, asking for its permission. The tree creaked and sighed in the wind, determining if she was a friend or a foe. Betty must have passed its test; leaves shook and small roots unraveled from an intricate knot to find their home back into the soil. A frail and panicked song bird laid vulnerable on its side, no exposed and crumpled.

"What the–" Polly's words died upon her tongue as she watch Betty kneel before the tree. Taking the bird into her hands as if it were the most natural thing anyone could do, and Betty shivered.

She felt the life line of the creature stutter and drop, searching for a pattern as the birds heart beat in flux.

"His wing, it's injured, and he's frightened. He's lost his mate." Betty spoke so softly the wind almost tore her words away. Her heart filled and spilled as she held the broken bird to her chest, her eyes welling up.

Polly could hear the faint calls of their parents. The ghostly voices moved closer, and became more and more frantic as no voices answered back. She tried to remember how to speak but her throat constricted against her efforts.

Tears clouded Betty's eyes as she sensed the bird slipping away. She felt helpless. Betty could hear the forest and its desperation. It needed to speak with her, but the blood rushing in her ears, crashing waves against her sense, overwhelmed her. She could feel everything the bird felt: the bruises, the broken bones, the heartache. Everything.

"It's not fair. You should be with the one you love. This isn't fair!" Betty's chest was pounding, frantic. She felt something swirl up within her, filling the spaces between the hurt.

"Betty..." Polly finally found her voice, no more than a whisper. She could hear footsteps now, the worried pleas of their mother and father much closer.

Betty ignored her, grasping the light within. The thrum of life in the air engulfed her, the pulse of the earth quaked beneath her. She saw the fraying thread running between them both and through the little songbirds heart. And she understood.

Taking a breath, Betty focused her own life force and interrupted the flow, creating a new current. She focused the riptide of life into her hands and channeled it through the songbird, fighting not to drown him. Even Polly could see the glow of Betty's powerful magic, a prismatic light surrounding them.

Betty watched as the frayed thread began to heal; thickening and strengthening. She felt the hurt and the heartbreak melt away, the bones and feathers mend. The song bird stood on his own once again, puffing out his chest. A beautiful plume of blue and black feathers spread in Berry's hands as the bird took flight. Her heart soared with him and she choked back a happy gasp, agape in wonder. She watched as the bird chirped and sang his praise, flitting around the mighty oak.

Three hearts burst in relief; he had found his love sulking deep within the strong branches. The birds swooped and sang together. Midnight feathers spread wide and proud in a display of gratitude, and Betty was overcome with love. Magic surrounding them subsided as her thread untangled from his. She felt a strong burst of wind as the forest began to breathe again, and she finally heard it. The leaves and the grass and the flowers dancing in the wind, whispering ' _thank you_.'

But in her wonder Betty missed the heavy stomps of running feet halt beside her. She was unaware of the frightened and harsh cries of her mother and father. They'd seen the light she'd created, the healing she'd performed, and they feared it. Anxiety gripped Betty's lungs as she turned. Alice and Hal's faces contorted, their expressions caught between panic and hatred. Betty felt her heart wilt, but seeing Polly in awe, her eyes filled with stars, helped Betty from spiraling.

"Betty Cooper, _what have you done_." Alice managed to strangle from her gulping throat. Betty shot to her feet, ready to defend, to fight, to do something, but blackness snatched her vision from her. Her head filled with white noise as she felt her legs give out. She fell for what seemed an eternity, muddled cries and screams following her as she drifted down, down, down.


End file.
